


joshua fit the battle

by orphan_account



Category: GOT7, K-pop, 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Canon Compliant, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Language Barrier, Light Angst, M/M, Self-Indulgent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-28
Updated: 2016-11-29
Packaged: 2018-09-02 21:56:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8684905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: "It (whatever it is) had started when Jackson heard Namjoon speak his unaccented English, when he’d felt the language barrier crashing down between them. Namjoon’s English isn’t flawless—sometimes his voice rises and falls with his native Korean inflection, sometimes he thinks a string of words in Korean and it doesn’t make it across the translation gap—but it’s pretty damn good."





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> First fic in this (these) fandom(s). Just guys being dudes. Dudes being bros. This has the potential to get a lot longer and a lot more…explicit, if anyone is interested. If not, it stays as a one-shot! :D

For some reason, Jackson Wang is on their couch.

Okay, rewind a bit.

Seokjin needed three (3) things from the grocery store, because his unruly group of surrogate children couldn’t be assed to put things on his grocery list when they ran out, even though Seokjin had told them a thousand times. He’d left the dorm with a mock-cheery, “Don’t blow up the dorm while I’m gone, Joonie!” and a warning glance sent around to the other members as if to say, _That is not blanket permission for you all to blow it up, either_.

When he bade the manager-hyung a tired farewell at the door, and when he’d trudged his way into the dorm, Jackson Wang was…there.

_Is there_ , Seokjin corrected himself, and he appears to be watching a show in English with Namjoon. At Seokjin’s entrance, they abruptly stop their yelled conversation, and Namjoon hops up to hurriedly take the groceries from Seokjin’s arms. “Seokjin-hyung, let me get those for—“

Jackson jeers as Namjoon almost trips on his way to put the bag in the kitchenette, and Seokjin sighs long-sufferingly and says, “Thank you, Joonie-ah, I can take it from here.” After a beat, he asks, because the question has been begged for two minutes now, “Why is Jackson here?”

Namjoon clears his throat. “He had a day off, and he just…appeared. He’s not the _worst_ company—“ He cuts himself off at a pointed look from Seokjin. “Not the _worst_ , superlative, I could be hanging out with…” Namjoon looks like he’s furiously attempting to think of someone unarguably greasy, and flounders for a second before mumbling, “I’m trying to think of someone superlative, and I’m coming up all G-Dragon.”

This surprises a laugh out of Seokjin, who puts away his three (3) grocery items and says, “Relax, Namjoon-ah, I’m only giving you a hard time. Are the others out?”

“Yoongi-hyung went to the studio, and the maknae line went to the dance studio with Hobi.” Namjoon leans against the counter. “Then Jackson showed up. We’ve been watching _Game of Thrones_.”

“I was gone for an hour.”

“We haven’t watched _much_ of _Game of Thrones_ ,” Namjoon counters, and Seokjin rolls his eyes. “Yah, hyung, if you keep doing that, your face will get stuck that way.” Seokjin shoos Namjoon out of the kitchen at this, following suit and filing into the living room after his dongsaeng.

Namjoon flops back onto the couch next to Jackson with an _oof_ , and Seokjin sits at the other end and curls his legs under him. “Welcome, Jackson,” he greets, and then asks, “I don’t suppose Namjoon-ah offered you anything to eat or drink?”

Jackson’s smile is…disarming. Seokjin scowls internally, and he isn’t sure why. “He did, but also insisted that if I wanted anything, I should wait until you got back. Something about a…microwave incident?”

“ _He wasn’t even using the microwave when it blew up,_ ” Seokjin hisses reflexively, sounding somewhat unnervingly like the Gollum version of himself, then returns to his usual happy Smeagol eomma persona. “Would you like anything, Jackson-ah? Tea?” He uncurls his legs as quickly as he’d curled them, but Jackson just laughs ( _disarmingly_ ).

“Water’s fine, thank you, Seokjin-hyung. And whatever junk food you have in the house.”

Seokjin wanders into the kitchen to retrieve the requested items (Hobi will deal with the fact that his cookies have mysteriously gone missing), and when he returns, Namjoon and Jackson are chattering away in English, and Jackson appears to be half-wrestling Namjoon. Seokjin’s English is iffy on a good day, but he catches a “dumbass” and a “rapper” and something that vaguely sounds like “fuck.”

“ _Language,_ Namjoon,” he snaps halfheartedly, passing off a carton of cookies and a glass of water to Jackson, who apologizes immediately and elbows Namjoon, urging him to do the same. Namjoon just raises his eyebrows at Seokjin, who stares him down blankly until he relents.

“Sorry, Jin-hyung.” Namjoon pulls Seokjin down onto the couch again, just in time for someone onscreen to die in grotesque fashion. Jackson says something in muttered English, and Namjoon responds in like manner.

As the episode progresses, and Seokjin dozes off on Namjoon’s shoulder to the screams of men on the television, he contemplates that maybe Jackson just wanted companionship outside of his band, and perhaps Namjoon was just a prime candidate.

***

Korean was exhausting. Korean _is_ exhausting, and Jackson wouldn’t give up his career for the world, but it’s _exhausting_. Watching Namjoon switch languages on a dime to mutter to Seokjin is _exhausting_. Jackson appreciates Mark so much, sometimes, but outside of his tiny insulated world, Namjoon is the next best company.

Seokjin has fallen asleep on Namjoon’s shoulder like he’s done this a thousand times, just greeted Namjoon’s company and then passed out. He probably has, Jackson decides, and almost wants to follow suit.

“That guy,” Jackson says around a cookie, “hands-down best death in the series. Look at him. Skull crushed by a big rock.”

“No glory in that,” Namjoon replies in English, and looks longingly at the junk food. “Jin is making me stick to my diet plan. Something about spoiling me last time.” Jackson proffers half a bitten-off cookie, and Namjoon purses his lips and adjusts Seokjin’s sleeping form on his shoulder, shaking his head.

Jackson has only been over a few times—his schedule and Bangtan’s rarely line up—but he appreciates these quiet moments, not as idols, but as friends with an uneasy stalemate.

It (whatever _it_ is) had started when Jackson heard Namjoon speak his unaccented English, when he’d felt the language barrier crashing down between them. Namjoon’s English isn’t flawless—sometimes his voice rises and falls with his native Korean inflection, sometimes he thinks a string of words in Korean and it doesn’t make it across the translation gap—but it’s pretty damn good. Good enough to relax Jackson’s constant sense of vigilance about vocabulary and connotation, and good enough that Jackson relaxes in Namjoon’s presence.

It’s not even that they talk much, as _Game of Thrones_ plays on. It’s that he has the _option_ , of speaking and being understood. “Namjoon,” he says quietly, and Namjoon looks up from where he’s idly stroking Seokjin’s hair. “Would you call me hardworking?”

Namjoon considers the question, humming quietly as he thinks. “Of course,” he says carefully, “but I think by definition you’re hardworking.” The _why_ of it goes unspoken. “Plus, you got me to pronounce the word ‘Sherlock’ right, so there’s that.”

Namjoon sounds like he’s from New York when he speaks English. Jackson wishes he weren’t as obscenely comforted by it as he is.

Part of it, he thinks as he relents and sags onto Namjoon’s unoccupied shoulder, is that Namjoon is a leader. It’s a requirement that he be charismatic and caring and sometimes even _charming_ , and Namjoon is all of that. He’s also articulate and open-minded and _smart_ , and it’s _awful_.

Namjoon’s chest rumbles with a low questioning noise, but he doesn’t pry, and his free hand reaches up to lift off Jackson’s cap and run his fingers through Jackson’s hair. “Bad day?”

Bangtan’s leader isn’t big on skinship, Jackson knows, but his fingertips rubbing gently at Jackson’s scalp feel heavenly. He sighs deeply and lets himself lean on Namjoon more heavily, closing his eyes. “I love Jaebum,” he murmurs in English, and Namjoon’s fingers falter for a moment.

“Hmm?” he questions, and his fingers start their rhythm again.

“And I love Mark,” Jackson continues slowly, grasping at consciousness beneath the calm of the room. “And the others.” Namjoon hums again. Seokjin makes a little whimpering noise and shifts in his sleep, and Namjoon makes a little shushing noise. “But,” Jackson adds.

“But?” Namjoon repeats quietly.

“But sometimes I feel I’m very far away from home,” Jackson says in a rush, and there’s another pause in Namjoon’s movement before he says, “Jackson…” on a sigh.

The next moment, he’s shaking Seokjin awake, urging him to go to bed if he’s this tired. Seokjin argues with him for a moment in Korean, and they have a leader-eldest staredown for a bit before Seokjin concedes defeat, letting Namjoon usher him into his bedroom. When Namjoon returns, he flings himself on the couch and fidgets for a few minutes before pulling Jackson half-onto his lap unceremoniously and returning to his earlier petting.

“Do you tell Jaebum about these things?” Namjoon asks, almost sternly. Jackson shifts his head so he’s settled more comfortably in Namjoon’s lap.

“As much as I can,” he defends himself. “I’m not some shrinking violet, I’m not going to cry because I don’t know how to say ‘fruit fly’ in Korean. We have bigger problems. It’s not usually important. Where are the rest of your members, anyway?”

“Yoongi sleeps at the studio when he’s like this. And who knows where Tae, Hobi, Jiminie, and Kookie have ended up,” Namjoon answers breezily. “You’re deflecting.”

“Damn right,” Jackson counters. He looks up at the television. “Why does Sandor Clegane have to be so…” Jackson wiggles his fingers in the air vaguely.

Namjoon hesitates for a moment. “Creepy?” he finally says, as if that’s not quite the word he’s looking for.

Jackson nods anyway, mussing his hair against Namjoon’s jeans. “What was I deflecting, again?”

“Jaebum.”

“Right,” Jackson exclaims. “Jaebum! Love him. Mark too. Mark especially. But…” He doesn’t say _you sound like New York and you feel like escape_ , but the way he grabs Namjoon’s waist and pulls him closer says something like it.

Jackson sits up and Namjoon’s hand falls away from his hair to his shoulder, the nape of his neck. There are a thousand reasons Jackson should _not_ do what he’s thinking of doing, ranging from the logical ( _idols_ ) to the even more logical ( _being supportive and being involved aren’t the same thing_ ), and yet—

Namjoon is right _there_ , and Jackson leans in and presses his lips to Namjoon’s. Namjoon’s hand on his neck twitches, and Namjoon freezes beneath Jackson, and Jackson pulls away, apologizing in frantic English, Korean, _Chinese—_

“Jackson,” Namjoon soothes, and Jackson cuts off abruptly. “Do that again.”

Jackson lets out a strangled noise and obliges, sliding his leg across Namjoon’s lap and pressing him into the living room couch, Namjoon’s hands rough in his hair, on his waist, his arms strong where he clutches Jackson to him. “You’re not—I’m not—“ Jackson manages to gasp, and Namjoon shakes his head.

“No,” he agrees.

“We’re not—“

“No.”

“But we—“

“Yes.”

Apparently, that’s all it takes, and Jackson dives in again, Namjoon’s hands finally settling on his ass and pulling him closer with a guttural noise. Jackson rocks his hips down against Namjoon’s and Namjoon makes that _noise_ again, and suddenly Jackson is having a hard time remembering those thousand reasons he’d come up with earlier but they _shouldn’t—_

“Namjoon,” he moans as Namjoon’s teeth scrape along his neck. “We shouldn’t, we can’t, it’s an awful idea—“

“You’re right,” Namjoon says against his clavicle, and Jackson brings up a hand to hold Namjoon there, sucking and biting and kissing, careful not to leave a mark.

“I _want_ to.”

“Mmm.”

“We—oh god,” he moans, rolling his hips against Namjoon’s more firmly. “We shouldn’t.”

“Do you want me to stop you?” Namjoon asks evenly, but the way his lips move against Jackson’s skin make Jackson crazy.

Jackson clutches at Namjoon’s shoulders with both hands and holds himself still for a few seconds, gathering his wits to answer. He looks down into Namjoon’s honest, open face and something in him breaks, and he leans in to press a kiss to Namjoon’s mouth, the tension ratcheting back up as Namjoon guides him into a sultry dip and roll of tongues—

“ _Namjoon-hyung, Hobi-hyung won’t stop choking me!_ ” a high-pitched voice yells as the door slams open, four men tumbling in as a tangle of limbs more than anything. Jackson jerks back violently, nearly falling off of Namjoon’s lap.

To his eternal credit, Namjoon manages to catch Jackson and sweep him to the side at the same time as he yells back in Korean, “Jimin-ah, what did you do to deserve it?”

“He ate my last two gummy vitamins,” Hoseok accuses, to Jimin’s protests that he did _not_ , it was Jeongguk. Hoseok releases Jimin from the chokehold and Taehyung strolls past, whistling in a suspiciously innocent fashion and chirping a cheerful, “Jackson-hyung,” as he goes.

“Jackson-hyung,” Jimin and Jeongguk follow suit, and Hoseok just smiles smugly.

“Rough day, Jackson-ssi?” he asks brightly. “You look a little…”

Namjoon flails on the spot. “Yah, Hoseok, he just came over to watch _Game of Thrones_ and bitch about his life—“

“Oh, I’m sure he did,” Hoseok says happily. “Jin-hyung asleep?”

“Yes.”

“Yoongi-hyung?”

“Still at the studio.”

Hoseok pauses, smiles wider. “I see.”

“ _Yah_ , Hoseok, don’t you have somewhere to be?” Hoseok’s grin becomes impossibly wider as he saunters into one of the bedrooms with the maknae line, leaving Jackson and Namjoon in the living room alone.

“Maybe we shouldn’t—“ Namjoon says hurriedly in English, and Jackson nods, shaken, curling up at the end of the couch, then standing up.

“I should—“

“You don’t have to—“ Namjoon counters, and Jackson shakes his head.

“It’s weird, right? It’s gonna make things weird.” Jackson hesitates for a second. “Fuck.”

“What?”

“I really fucking want to kiss you again,” Jackson confesses in English, and Namjoon pulls him back down, wrapping his long legs around Jackson’s thighs and forcing him to fall forward onto Namjoon’s lap. “Please, Namjoon,” he murmurs between kisses, and Namjoon’s hand slips down from his shoulder to his chest, lower, _lower_ , and now they can’t really pretend they aren’t doing _exactly_ what they are. The heel of Namjoon’s hand drags along Jackson’s dick through his jeans and Jackson whimpers softly into his mouth, rolling his hips hard against Namjoon’s palm.

When Namjoon comes, he slips back into incoherent Korean, but his lips are quick and hot on Jackson’s and he doesn’t mind it at all.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is slight angst, there is Seokjin, and there is smut. All unrelated, mostly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have this headcanon that GOT7 has a “no Markson in the dorm” rule. Also, Markson is probably the best ship name. It’s a pity I don’t write them. I ship, in equal amounts, NamJin and Markson, so this chapter is a bit self-indulgent. This entire thing has been self-indulgent. I’m awful.
> 
> As promised, here’s the continuation of the Namjoon/Jackson complication, and I swear there will be a happy, if ambiguous, ending. :D Thanks to everyone who left me feedback - I’m doing my best to keep up with you all!

When Jackson gets home, Mark is inexplicably in his bedroom. Jackson ignores him in favor of tossing a couple of layers of clothes off and jamming his dance bag under his bed. No one had been fooled by his pretense of _getting extra practice in with Hoseok_ , so he doesn’t quite know why he bothered taking it with him.

“Had fun with Bangtan?” Mark asks distractedly, playing on his phone. He only looks up when Jackson throws himself bodily onto his own bed with a groan. “Is that a no?”

A silence falls between them, broken by Mark saying, “You’ve got a—“ and gesturing vaguely at his neck. Jackson starts, jumping up and making to run to the bathroom and examine his neck, but Mark just says curiously, “It’s just red, like you got scraped up. Or were attacked by a particularly determined vampire with blunt teeth. It’ll fade.” Jackson falls back onto the bed with a sigh. “You’re very quiet.”

“I’m very confused,” Jackson retorts instantly, and Mark grumbles and puts his phone down, clambering onto Jackson’s bed next to him and peering down at him.

“Aren’t you usually? Have you talked to Jaebum?”

Jackson blinks sardonically up at Mark, as if to say, _Why is everyone asking me that lately?_ “I don’t think this is something Jaebum would be…pleased to help me resolve. I don’t know if it even needs resolution.”

Mark lets another silence hang. Jackson fidgets where he is, rolling onto his stomach and burying his face in his arms. Finally, Mark speaks again. “Which one of them was it?”

It has the intended effect, Jackson flopping dramatically onto his back and tossing an arm over his eyes so he doesn’t have to look Mark in the face when he replies, “Officially? None of them.”

“Of course not,” Mark agrees easily. “That would be potentially scandalous.” A beat. “Unofficially, do you want to talk about it?”

Jackson lifts his arm enough to glare up at his former roommate. “This doesn’t reach Jaebum.”

A smile touches Mark’s lips and he promises, “I once walked in on Jaebum masturbating to the ‘Doom Dada’ video. So even if it did reach him, I got you covered.”

Jackson howls in protest. “Oh, _gross,_ I did _not_ need to know that! I need to shower.” He sits up and crosses his legs beneath him. _You’re deflecting,_ a voice says in the back of his head, sounding suspiciously like Namjoon, and Jackson sighs.

“So?”

“Namjoon.”

Mark blinks in surprise, then shrugs. “It was either him or Seokjin, really.” Mark seems to think better of this, because he adds, “Or both. You’re not—“

“I’m not! Are you?”

“No!”

The absurdity of the situation gets to Jackson, finally, and he dissolves into helpless giggling. “I’m not—he’s not—“ he hisses out between fits of laughter, to Mark’s growing concern. “Okay, Mark,” Jackson says when he finally inhales. “You’re smart, help me figure this out.”

Mark makes an exception to his “no Markson in the dorm” rule to grab Jackson’s hands, cradling them in his own. “Alright, spill.”

“They, the great ethereal _they_ —“ Jackson waves their joined hands in the air, “they say, ‘Oh, it’s not a big deal, just don’t have feelings for whoever you’re—‘“ Jackson shoots a look up at Mark from underneath his eyelashes. “You know.” Mark hums his assent. “Okay, but Namjoon is my _friend,_ he’s been my friend. I—“ He squeezes Marks hands in his own. “You automatically feel something for your friends, that’s why they’re _friends_. Not sex things,” he amends hurriedly, glancing up at Mark again. “But something. So how do I do this?”

There’s a thoughtful pause before Mark speaks again. “I mean, it seems to me like you have two options here. Well, probably more, but two obvious ones.” He squeezes Jackson’s hands again and Jackson gives him an approximation of a smile. “One, you don’t do it, or two, you keep doing it and deal with the consequences. Personal consequences. I don’t really think anyone in Bangtan is going to look at you sideways for being, you know…selectively bisexual.” Jackson huffs out a laugh at that. “So you just have to deal with the fact that you, Jackson, are not a…”

“Hoe?”

“No, no, that’s too harsh. You just don’t divorce the two. Feelings and…” Mark presses his lips together. “But you’re right, it’s not something Jaebum can fix for you. It’s between you and Namjoon-ssi, so you either need to figure it out with him or cut it off before you hurt yourself. Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Jackson agrees distractedly.

“Hey,” Mark insists. “You’re okay.” Jackson nods, and Mark pulls him in by their joined hands, then by his shoulders, hugging Jackson to him awkwardly, their legs in the way. “It’s _RapMon_ - _ssi_ , he’s like, the most harmless person you could accidentally be gay for.”

***

Seokjin went to sleep in his own room for _half an hour_ , and Namjoon had managed to not only chip the water glass he’d brought Jackson, but had also managed to both have sex with someone _and_ scare them off. _And_ clue Hoseok in on this fact, so he was bound to be slightly insufferable until this whole thing resolved itself. Seokjin stretched his arms above his head and willed away the oncoming tension headache as he sat next to Namjoon on the now-vacant couch.

“You’re probably my favorite person in the world,” Seokjin begins carefully, and Namjoon hums in acknowledgement, not meeting Seokjin’s eyes. “Which means you’ll be replacing that glass. Because I know that _you know_ that you’re in charge of replacing things you break.”

“Yah, hyung, it’s only _chipped_ ,” Namjoon protests. Seokjin makes an exasperated noise and wraps his arms around Namjoon, tugging him closer. “What is this for?!” Namjoon exclaims, and Seokjin shushes him.

Seokjin flips the TV back on and queues up the first Ghibli movie he can find, even though Namjoon makes little grumbly noises about watching _The Cat Returns_ again. Once the film starts playing, Seokjin squeezes Namjoon and says, “You take such good care of us.”

“I think you’ve got me confused with yourself—“

“And I take care of you, because I am your hyung and obviously know better,” Seokjin barrels over him, and Namjoon gets a bit less stiff in his arms. “I know you and Jackson had sex.”

Rather than denying it, Namjoon groans loudly. “How in the _hell_ can you know that?” Seokjin answers only with a wide, sly smile. “We did, he left. I don’t know if he’s coming back.”

Seokjin’s smile softens into something less calculating. “Oh, he will. Until then, you get to run damage control with Hobi. But, Joonie-ah…” He pauses, thinking through his next words. “You don’t get to sulk because you touched someone’s dick and liked it. Or because that person was,” he mock-shudders, “Jackson.”

“I’m not _sulking,_ ” Namjoon dissents weakly, and Seokjin raises an eyebrow. “I’m _introspecting_.”

Nevertheless, Namjoon leans into Seokjin’s arms and only puts up one more token protest about the movie. “Seokjin-hyung, since you’re so knowledgeable,” Namjoon says, sarcasm barely playing at the edges of his voice, “tell me what to do when you accidentally-on-purpose sleep with one of your friends.”

Seokjin sighs and adjusts his arm around Namjoon’s shoulders. “Wait. I’m sure Jackson is having a meltdown of some kind, entirely separate from your biweekly existential crisis.”

“Does that mean twice a week or once every two weeks?” Namjoon bristles, and then shakes his head. “You’re right, hyung.”

The door unlocks and swings open quietly, and Yoongi kicks off his shoes with a muttered, “Are we having a movie date?” Seokjin answers in the affirmative and Yoongi rummages in the kitchen for a bit before returning with half a rice cake shoved into his mouth, collapsing at the unoccupied end of the couch.

The commotion draws out Jimin (“Movie date? We weren’t invited?”), who in turn draws out Jeongguk, Taehyung, and Hoseok, and they all pile onto the couch and the floor, Jimin sprawling across Yoongi, Jeongguk and Taehyung situated on the floor between Hoseok’s legs. Seokjin feels Namjoon relax even further against him once the entire group is in the room, like a concerned father sighting his children.

“What have I missed?” Yoongi asks over the general chatter and the movie, and Seokjin chuckles as Namjoon stiffens.

“Namjoon-ah broke a glass and had sex with Jackson from GOT7, probably not in that order.” A hush descends over the band.

Yoongi just says, “Oh,” and returns to watching the movie, and Hoseok ribs him about his mixtape until Yoongi kicks him in the head. It’s just business as usual, and that, more than anything, lulls Namjoon into a sense of security about his potential scandal. He falls asleep midway through the movie, head against Seokjin’s shoulder, legs stretched across Hoseok, Jimin, and Yoongi’s laps.

Seokjin is exhausted, suddenly, a martyr to Namjoon’s happiness. He nudges Jeongguk with his toes until the maknae scoots closer, arms circling Seokjin’s leg, and leans against him, supporting Seokjin without even acknowledging it. Sometimes Jeongguk is the biggest of them all, Seokjin thinks sleepily, as Jeongguk presses his lips to Seokjin’s kneecap.

***

All in all, their next face-to-face conversation is a bit anticlimactic.

“I have feelings for you. Not, you know, as a boyfriend. But as your friend. I like being around you.”

“Jin-hyung said as much,” Namjoon responds, and then switches languages. “So we’re friends?”

Jackson smiles hopefully. “Friends who…occasionally have sex?” Namjoon sighs long-sufferingly but acquiesces, and Jackson says, “So…that’s it?”

And Namjoon says, “Yeah, that’s it,” and then pulls Jackson in for a long, sultry kiss.

Seokjin had tactfully herded the rest of the band out of the dorm, citing the need for dance practice, and Namjoon and Jackson were left alone to resolve their ongoing issue. (“ _Yeah, to fuck it out,_ ” Yoongi had grumbled, and Seokjin had chided him for his language but hadn’t denied it.)

If Jackson had to describe their previous encounter of the gay kind, it would probably have been with the word _amateurish_ , both of them fumbling their way through what felt good, scared of the consequences. This time, though, it seems Namjoon has done his research, and he presses Jackson down into the bed, slotting his thigh between Jackson’s and dragging his weight against Jackson’s groin.

Jackson groans, shoving fruitlessly at Namjoon’s clothes, unwilling to release the mouth that’s currently locked against his. Namjoon wrenches away from the kiss to hastily pull off his shirt, returning immediately to bite at Jackson’s lips with a pleading noise. Jackson rolls his hips up against Namjoon’s thigh, drawing moans from them both as Namjoon gets with the program and shoves Jackson’s jeans down, letting Jackson kick them off the rest of the way as he gets rid of his own. Jackson throws off his own shirt as he ruts helplessly against Namjoon’s bare thigh, and Namjoon’s lips fall to his neck, shoulder, lower still—

“ _Namjoon_ ,” Jackson gasps as Namjoon kneels between his legs, licking none-too-carefully over his cock. He repeats Namjoon’s name on a high-pitched moan as Namjoon experimentally starts taking Jackson into his mouth, pulling back, sliding down a bit more. His tongue works against the underside of Jackson’s cock and Jackson’s acutely aware that Namjoon has his own cock in hand, groaning as he bobs up and down, finally getting the hang of it, rhythm and suction and _so good_ , he can’t think anymore—

“Nam _joon_ ,” he groans again, lower, and Namjoon moans around his cock in reply. “I’m so—“ His hips twitch up into Namjoon’s throat, and Namjoon makes a whimpering noise. “I’m gonna—“

Instead of pulling off, Namjoon takes him deeper still, and Jackson feels Namjoon’s throat working desperately as he comes so hard he sees stars. When he opens his eyes, Namjoon is on hands and knees over him, damp pink hair hanging in Jackson’s face as his fist flies over his own cock. Jackson fists one hand in Namjoon’s hair and pulls him in for another sultry, open kiss, and presses two fingers of his other hand behind Namjoon’s balls.

Namjoon makes a surprised, strangled sound into Jackson’s mouth and comes, hips twitching as he spills himself onto Jackson’s abs. “God,” he sighs, resting his brow against Jackson’s, and Jackson resists the urge to say, No, my name is Jackson.

They both grimace as they realize the mess that they’ve made, and Namjoon’s voice is unmistakably hoarse as he says, “I’ll grab a washcloth, you sort clothes?” He looks a little startled at the sound of his own voice as wrecked as it is, and Jackson smirks in his direction before remembering the mess of semen on his abs and looking suitably chastised.

Namjoon tosses a wet washcloth in his direction and he cleans up hastily, picking up clothes and putting them into two piles. Namjoon reenters the room clad only in sweatpants and Jackson groans, pulling Namjoon down for another kiss, weary this time. He’s _too_ attractive, it’s unfair. He runs his hands over Namjoon’s ass and makes a happy noise.

When they finally make it back into the living room, Seokjin and co. have returned, and Seokjin is holding court in the kitchen. Four of the boys are bothering him about dinner as he cooks, and Yoongi is fast asleep on the living room couch.

“Ah, Jackson-ah,” Seokjin greets him over the clamoring maknae line, and Hoseok. Seokjin is wearing a pink apron and holding a large plastic spoon. “Did Nam—of course he didn’t, would you like something to drink?”

As Jackson leans against the counter, carefully avoiding Taehyung’s kicking legs, he contemplates the fact that maybe things don’t always have to be so heavy, so dire. Sometimes, maybe, they can be the comfort of someone else’s dinner routine, or the sound of soft English above him as he’s kissed into a bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: *writes sex scene*  
> Also me: Ack how do I end this
> 
> Leave me some feedback if you’re so inclined :D I love hearing from readers!
> 
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